I’m the first-born son of the mafia king. The
favorite. Destined to rule, I’m a dangerous man, a ruthless one. But in my
world, you have to be.
Then Natalie stumbles into my life. Wrong place.
Wrong time.
Twice, fate put her in my path.
Twice, fate placed the innocent lamb at the mercy
of the monster.
I gave her a chance to walk away. Told her it would
be better for her if she did.
But she didn’t listen.
And now it’s too late.
Because I’m not good. I never wanted to be. And I
won’t let her go anymore. See, I’m not the hero. When I touch her, it’s with
dirty hands.
I know my reckoning is coming though. I know I’ll
burn for the things I’ve done, the sins I’ve committed. And I don’t deny hell
is where I belong, but I want my time first. I want my time with her.
She’s mine.
Forever.
No matter what.
Author’s
Note: Sergio: a Dark Mafia Romance is an intensely emotional, steamy and dark
standalone romance set in the Benedetti Brothers Mafia world. Be prepared: this
is not a traditional romance.
Sergio Benedetti is the
firstborn son of a mafia king.He is the
favourite and destined to rule.He is
cold, cruel and unfeeling.He is also
unforgiving, manipulative, powerful and damn sexy.
Natalie was in the
wrong place at the wrong time twice in her life and in both instances, it led
her to Sergio.This time, Sergio will
not let her go.FOREVER. NO MATTER WHAT.
I needed to exhale a
huge breath before writing this review.I think I was holding my breath anticipating something that was not
going to happen.That couldn’t happen
because the story had to be told this way.I’m shook.I also have a
love/hate relationship with this book.
I LOVE IT! It was
beautifully written and perfectly paced.It is intriguing, captivating and emotional.It is brilliant.A one of a kind read.
I HATE IT! (not
really).It is gut wrenching and
hard.It is bittersweet and I’m an
emotional mess.
I listened to Sergio’s
song, Darlin’ by Houndmouth, before I read this book and it set a mood.An overcast, a shadow, an omen.Almost like devastation was near.
The synopsis of this
book had me all kinds of excited to read it.
Natasha’s foreword was
gripping, almost a warning.For what, I
did not know but I had a feeling this would be a dark read unlike any
other.I felt anxious and ready for
anything.I was wrong.
After the prologue, I
was completely invested.
This book had me
feeling dread, anticipation, excitement, love and so many other things.I knew this book was leading me somewhere.As it did, the tension and anticipation I
felt kept mounting.
As for the conclusion,
I was left speechless and confounded and emotionally wrung out.
Although the story has
ended, I know this story and its characters will linger.This is a TRUE book hangover.It’s not pretty but it is a real and honest
portrayal.
I can’t forget to thank
Natasha Knight for breaking my heart so beautifully.It will never be the same.
This is not a
traditional romance.It does not pretend
to be.This is also NOT a story that you
want told.This is a story that MUST be
told.This book is for those of you that
know love is not easy. That you must take care and savor every moment.To those who know if they’re lucky, they will
meet and fall in love with that special one.That special one who will be THEIRS, FOREVER, NO MATTER WHAT.
I received this
exquisite book as an ARC.All thoughts,
feelings and opinions are my own.
PS:What are you
waiting for?1-Click this baby right
now!!!
AUTHOR BIO
USA Today
bestselling author of contemporary romance, Natasha Knight specializes in dark,
tortured heroes. Happily-Ever-Afters are almost always guaranteed, but she
likes to put her characters through hell to get them there. She’s evil like
that.
And Maddie Clayton is going to collect. This
time Carlos and Logan have gone too far. People are dead, lives have been
changed, and she’s had enough. Plus, she’s got the Devil on her side, so when
an enemy turns into a friend with an idea of how to take Carlos down, she’s in.
Tyler Morgan has been fighting back his whole
adult life. He’s ready for anything when it comes to payback. But endangering
Maddie can’t be part of the deal. Unfortunately for him, once Maddie gets an
idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.
Her debt has been paid in blood and she wants
revenge.
His fight is still there, but now he’s got
more at stake than himself.
The end is coming.
But even if they win against Carlos, they can
still lose each other.
I roll our interlaced
fingers over so that I can see the back of her hand. It’s strong, but delicate.
Long fingers and white skin. Veins that tense with the clench of her grip.
Freckles. Just a few light, faint, perfect freckles.
I have the same
thought I had the other day. That I want to learn her. Her body.
Every millimeter of
her. I want it burned into my brain. I want to imprint her into my memory
before she goes. I want to study her. I want to have a PhD in Maddie Clayton.
I let go of her hand
and stand up, turn to face her and then kneel down.
“What are you doing?”
she asks.
I don’t say anything.
She’s not wearing shoes, so I start tugging at the toes of her socks and she
giggles as I work them off her legs and then hold her precious feet in my
hands, examining them. I stroke the bones that run along the top, ending at the
tips of her toes, and I kiss each toe one by one.
I turn them over to
inspect the scar I found the other day, and I give it a kiss. Then I spread her
legs and slide in between them, popping my head up to give her a kiss on the
lips, before I unbutton her jeans and draw down the zipper. She leans back,
propping herself on her elbows, and shimmies her hips as I pull her pants down.
They’re so tight on her, so fitted, that they draw her underwear along with
them as I pull, and then the pants are off her body and on the floor, and her
bare calves, and knees, and thighs, and pussy are there for me to explore.
Still leaning back on
her elbows, she tilts her head to the side, presses her lips together in a
tight smile, and raises her eyebrows at me.
I lift one of her legs
and place my face right next to it. Like an archaeologist exploring the
contours of a priceless, ancient artifact.
Her smell. Her smell
will be the thing that I know I will hold onto most. It’s always been that way
for me. Smell is the most potent sense I have when it comes to triggering
memories. When I smell cinnamon, I remember my mom. Because she was baking when
she collapsed that last time after chemo. And so that’s the smell I choose to
associate with my final memory of her, as opposed to the antiseptic smell of
the hospital. Because that wasn’t her anymore anyway. Mom stayed in the
kitchen. Only the shell of her stuck around for a couple weeks more in the
hospital bed.
Anyway.
Right now, Maddie
smells like freshly cut grass. She’s been packing and getting ready to leave
all day, and it’s been weirdly warm of late, so she’s a little sweaty. And that
smell—that pungent, dense, round smell of sweat on her skin that fills my
nostrils—reminds me of summer. Which I love. Because I suppose that means that
for the rest of my life, there’ll be an entire season where every day all I’ll
be able to think about is her. Even though I don’t imagine needing a lot of prompts
to steer my thoughts in her direction.
As I stroke my fingers
along her leg, kissing as I go, and drinking in her scent with every breath,
she drops down from her elbows, letting herself lie flat on her back, her legs
dangling off the side of the bed. She traces her fingers up and down the line
of her stomach, pushing her t-shirt up to the curve of her breasts as I
continue my survey of her flesh.
I’m discovering
things. Things that no one else on earth besides me will know.
Her right calf appears
just infinitesimally stronger than her left. Her left knee is the teeniest bit
knobbier than her right. And when I kiss her behind either of her knees, she
shudders through her stomach, causing her toes to crinkle.
As I pass the bend in
her knee, I draw my nose along the inside of her thigh. She wriggles a teeny
bit as my beard moves along her soft skin. And then my mouth is right at the
brink of her entrance. I take my thumb and run it along the pink folds and she
lets out a “mmmmm.” I tilt my head, studying my fingers as they massage her
tender skin, and take note of what sound each gesture evokes from her.
Kissing tenderly on
her opening causes her to growl from somewhere deep inside her throat. So I do.
I kiss, and I let my warm breath signal my presence, but I don’t want to
penetrate her. Not this way. If she wants me to be inside her, I will happily
oblige, but for now I just want to be here with her and hold her close.
And I will.
And I will hold her
close in my thoughts every second that she’s gone.
But more
importantly...
I will hold her in my
heart.
MADDIE
Some people search
their whole life looking for that one place they belong. For that one person
who gets them. Who brings them into their world, lets them fall easily into the
pull of their gravity, and lets them just… be. Just exist. Quietly. Naturally.
Freely. This is Tyler for me. The center of my universe. The man around whom I
now orbit.
Not like a satellite,
either. But like… like two things meant to be one. Like long ago something
crashed into us, broke us into little pieces, and left us adrift. Floating in
directionless space. Spinning wildly with no tether. And now we’ve been pulled
back together. And we circle each other, still spinning, but with the purpose
of joining. Of becoming one thing again. Not because of tragedy, the way I’d
imagined when I sent that letter. It’s not a lifeline of salvation connecting
us now, but some force of nature we can’t explain, or control, or bend to our
will. Some law of the universe that dictates the fate of things.
We are connected by
something more powerful than shared sorrow. And every moment we’ve spent apart
has been valuable. Necessary. Critical.
His mouth between my
legs feels wonderful. I could close my eyes and enjoy it. Let myself reach the
heights of pleasure.
But alone?
No. I’m done doing
things alone. We’re connected now. And everything we do will be together.
So I whisper, “Tyler,”
as I caress his head. Run my fingers through his hair. Touch his shoulders.
Slide my fingertips up and down the hills and valleys of his muscular arms.
He looks up at me, his
eyes smiling even though they’re half closed, even though his mouth is still
working. His tongue still flicking against my pussy.
“Come up here,” I say.
“And kiss my mouth.”
Now he smiles with his
whole face. His hands plant on either side of my hips and he draws himself up
to standing. He lifts his t-shirt over his head and undoes his jeans, letting
them fall to the floor, and his nakedness reminds me that he has lived every single
day of his time on this earth.
He leans onto the bed
and eases forward. My legs open wider for him, welcome him between them as his
cock—hard, and long, and ready—rests against my clit, making me want him.
If we stopped right
now, if he just rested his chest on top of my breasts, became nothing more than
heavy weight as he closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell asleep… I’d be content,
happy, and satisfied.
And not because
there’d be more chances to do this later. But because it’s him I want. Not the sex.
He leans down, his
hands on either side of my head now. Bending the mattress the way spacetime
bends around a sun. And when his lips reach mine, my eyes are closed.
And I fall again.
I fall far, and long,
and easily. The same way I drifted towards him. And as I drift, weightless, we
kiss. But I’m still connected to him. Always next to him. Because this is what
it feels like to fall into someone,
not away.
This is not me
slipping down the mountain.
This is not me losing
my footing.
This is me finding myself.
In him. In us.
So when I reach my
hand between my legs and place him right where he needs to be, he enters me.
And all those broken, spinning pieces come together to once again create the
thing we were always meant to become.
Our bodies move together.
Perfectly synchronized. Like the dance of stars in space. His body is hot, and
my body is hot, and the heat we create between us doesn’t burn like fire but
rearranges us. Like the molecules of two metals mixing to form the strongest
sword made of the very best steel.
Our lovemaking is
slow. And perfect.
We reach the heights
of pleasure together. As one. And it’s the kind of climax that only happens
once in a lifetime. The kind of release that means more than the way it makes
you feel. It tells you who you are, and who you’re with, and exactly where you
fit in the grand scheme of things.
He says, “I love you,
Madison.”
And I say it back. “I
love you, Tyler.”
We mold ourselves into
each other as we relax and grow sleepy. Our bodies back together. His arms
around me. My back pressed against his chest.
Two accomplished writers come together to create unforgettable sexy
romance. JA Huss is the New York Times
bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a
veteran actor and writer whose work, either performed or written, is probably
airing on at least one of the channels on your television right now. You can
contact them on their website www.hussmcclain.com or find them
at their social links below.
He doesn’t use me, hurt me, or forget about me. He
doesn’t treat me like I’m nothing, take me for granted, or make me feel unsafe.
He remembers me, laughs with me, and looks at me.
He listens to me, protects me, and sees me. I can feel his eyes on me over the
breakfast table, and my heart pumps so hard when I hear him pull in the
driveway after work.
I have to stop this. It can’t happen.
My sister once told me there are no good men, and
if you find one, he’s probably unavailable.
Only Pike Lawson isn’t the unavailable one.
I am.
PIKE
I took her in, because I thought I was helping.
She’d cook a few meals and clean up a little. It
was an easy arrangement.
As the days go by, though, it’s becoming anything
but easy. I have to stop my mind from drifting to her and stop holding my
breath every time I bump into her in the house. I can’t touch her, and I
shouldn’t want to.
The more I find my path crossing hers, though, the
more she’s becoming a part of me.
But we’re not free to give into this. She’s
nineteen, and I’m thirty-eight.
And her boyfriend’s father.
Unfortunately, they both just moved into my house.
*BIRTHDAY
GIRL is a stand-alone, contemporary romance suitable for ages 18+.
Penelope Douglas is a
New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her
books have been translated into thirteen languages and include The Fall Away
Series, The Devil’s Night Series, and the standalones, Misconduct, Punk 57, and
now Birthday Girl. Please look for Kill Switch (Devil’s Night #3), coming later
this year, and the standalone, Motel, coming in 2019.
She lives in Las Vegas
with her husband and their daughter.
